A Tiny Vendetta
by MuchaLuchaAndMe
Summary: Like any other day, Luigi was once again called upon for his services by another Buttowski brother. Though this job was a little bit different from the others...


His hand trembled on the handle. Should he do this? Brad hadn't ever done something like this before. He was the popular cool guy, the guy everyone looked up to, now standing at the front entrance of some kind of Chinese restaurant with a weird spelling. He looked pack to the card gripped firmly in the callused and muscular palm of his hand, the name being a sickening reminder of what was about to transpire.

**Luigi Vendetta**

If it weren't for his loser little brother, _Clarence, _Brad wouldn't have even been in this fart of a mess. It was all that idiots fault and he was due for a pounding after this. After Brad pushed the door open, walked in, and demanded to see the little twirp his bro hired to mess up their good thing of sibling Brad-Beating-Up-Kick-and-Kick-having-to-take-it-like-a-babypants-and-YEAHBRAD, and got this score settled.

His hand remained still, sweating with a stagnant aroma outside this dinky little restaurant. He scowled, swallowing down his pride and all his armpit stank as he kicked the door open and stormed his way in. A large dame, filing her nails cast him a glance, served with a pout on her glossy lips.

"What'ya want, dollface?"

"I _demand _to see Luigi!" He squeaked out as a shout, fists trembling as the paper business card crumpled under his hand. Her face crumpled much in the same way as she stopped filing and leaned on the table, eyes giving him a glare that cut just enough to push Brad a step back.

"Listen, _kid, _Mr. Vendetta don't take kindly to no strangahs bragin' in an' making orders." The kid licked at his lips before sucking them and gaining a stance, coming to her eyelevel the best he could, though it was in an awkward and unconfident slouch. He dropped his jaw in an attempt to say something, but the subtle pad of tiny feet on the floor cut through the cheesy elevator music playing in the background. All attention was turned to the single presence of a young child, hair betraying his true height as it towered far above in a glistening black sheen.

Brad narrowed his eyes at the kid, _Luigi, _as he looked to the stupid hostess and smiled.

"Evertone, please, calm yourselves." He spoke, looking now straight at Brad with the most confident of smirks, "Mr. Buttowski here is an… old business partner." She raised a brow and slinked back, returning to the mundane task of filing her nails.

"Whatevah you say, boss." She drawled, looking away as the child walked to the teenager.

"Come, Brad, we shall go somewhere more private to talk… _business._" The totally awesome Brad frowned, crossing his arms and slouching off with Luigi, mumbling something about poor service and attitude.

They walked for a while, Brad stuck in his own pout for such a long time the trip seemed almost impossible to traverse. But it took for the smooth cough of the Vendetta jerk that told him they were already sitting. Some kind of stupid booth with a stupid candle and stupid seats and it was stupid and round and Brad thought it was lamer than Luigi's hairstyle _if that was even possible._ But that wasn't the point anymore. The point was, they were alone, and Brad could talk and by _all that was holy and Brad __**he would talk.**_

"Alright, you little twirp," he snapped at Luigi as the young boss sipped at a glass of stupid chinese water, "You're gonna tell me what kinda voodoo nerd magic you used in that song or I'm gonna mess you up reeeeal good, y'hear me?" Luigi smiled, setting the glass down and staring at the raised fist with drooping eyelids. This scratched at the roof of Brads mouth.

"I did not do anything. It was just a job like any other. Your brother hired me to take care of you, and I did."

"Oh yeah? W-well—" Brad sputtered, pulling away his fist and grabbing the collar of the stupid suit the kid wore, "Well why is it you're always _there, _huh? Why am I always _thinking _about you, then? That ain't normal! That's gotta be some kinda wizard trick or whatever you losers call it!" Luigi gave a simple smile, touching the hand of Brad and watched as the teenager squirmed. It wasn't a burning sensation, but it felt different, soft, and it brought up memories in Brad's head that he didn't want to think about anymore. The way that nerd looked burned further, like shame and guilt and some other third thing all in one ball of he _knew _something that Brad didn't.

"As I said before, Brad, you were just another person involved in my job. But," He paused, untangling the iron grip Brad had held on Luigi and placing them in his own hold, "I recognize a good business offer when I see one. Here is my card, it contains my _personal _number," Brad flushed without a thought as Luigi reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny slip of paper, a number he didn't recognize scrawled on it with the annoying little pests name printed underneath, and slipped it into the palm of Brad Buttowski. He looked at the paper for a minute longer before looking back to Luigi, who still smiled, never changing.

"Meet me here at seven that night. We shall make arrangements on what to do then. Dress casual, these affairs should never start too seriously." Brad pushed his frown even further, shoving the number into his pants pocket.

"Hey! _Nobody_ tells Brad Buttowski how to dress except for Brad Buttowski," He slipped from his chair without breaking his gaze from Luigi's smug little smirk.

"I'm sure." He spoke. Brad pursed his lips, crossing his arms, staring down the dork for a little longer. No words were exchanged, and neither seemed to falter in expression. It was only when Brad looked away, to where the door in this lame excuse for a Chinese restaurant was, did something in the air change.

"…You know my lame little bro' isn't gonna be okay with this." He muttered, a heat flustering at his face as he remembered scrounging through that lame-o's room just to find the card with the address to this place. He heard a small laugh, or a cough, or whatever, and gave a small look at Luigi.

"Do not worry about him," He responded, sliding out of his seat, "He owes me a favor, anyways. I believe this tiny venture will be… worth it, as they say." Brad looked a while longer, almost positive there was this weird fire burning up his cheeks and forehead before he finally looked away.

"Yeah, whatever." He spat, digging his hands in his pocket, "I guess I'll see you here tomorrow or _something._" Luigi watched as Brad walked away, crossing his fingers and playing with his thoughts, listening to the teenager grumble before the door to the exit tingled as it hit the bell, slamming shut right on the heels of the older Buttowski brother. He chuckled before walking down the hall, and into absolute darkness.

Another successful business transaction.


End file.
